Rhennus barked a bitter laugh. “It’s a bitch doing security without a partner. I may not have one for quite a while, either. Word gets around.”
“About Mathilde, you mean? Occasionally, that happens. Security isn’t without risks. We all know that.”
“It gets harder to find good empaths when corporacions are paying considerably more. Marks matter.”
“Unless other things matter more,” Dekkard replied.
“That’s not always enough … especially when you add in the danger.” After the briefest pause, Rhennus moved closer and lowered his voice. “I heard that your councilor is looking into some military contracting problems in Siincleer.”
“There have been some very odd occurrences there.”
“There have always been odd occurrences there. They usually involve Siincleer Shipbuilding. If he goes down there, you and Avraal need to be doubly careful. Especially now.”
“Do you know why?”
“Only that strange things happened to some important people, and that a certain engineering firm isn’t pleased that people are nosing around. Keep that tight. I’m not supposed to know. I just happened to overhear it … and after Mathilde, I don’t want anyone else I know not to be wary.”
“Thank you. I will keep that tight. Can we help you in any way?”
“Not right now, but if I need anything…”
“Just let me know.”
As he left Rhennus and covered the last few yards to the office door, Dekkard couldn’t say he was surprised. While it was a confirmation of sorts, it certainly didn’t qualify as legal proof.
When he stepped into the office, Ysella was already drafting a response, and only a handful of letters sat waiting on his desk. By midmorning, he’d finished his drafts and given them to Margrit to be typed up.
“Are you caught up at the moment?” Macri asked Dekkard.
“For now.”
“Good. Here are some letters you should be able to handle. The councilor wants to answer them even though they come from out of district. Give the drafts back to me, rather than Margrit.”
Dekkard took them with a smile. His smile turned wry when he returned to his desk and read the first one, which was from the junior legalist with the Working Women Guild in Gaarlak, who wanted Obreduur’s support for legislation to allow women of the streets to be represented by legalists from the nearest Working Women Guild.
From Gaarlak? Where Obreduur was visiting in less than two weeks?
He couldn’t help but nod. Since the incumbent Landor councilor couldn’t run for reelection in the next election, whenever that happened to be, Obreduur wanted to curry favor with both the ladies of the brothels and their less fortunate compatriots on the streets—and, even more important, with the women legalists who represented both.
The remaining letters, also from Gaarlak, were on issues Dekkard knew well enough to draft, so that Macri would, hopefully, only have to make minor corrections. At least he wasn’t doing make-work, but he questioned if even dozens of letters to people there would make any difference—since it was still unlikely that elections would be called any time soon.
53
SLIGHTLY after third bell on Quindi afternoon, Obreduur summoned Dekkard and Ysella. Once they were seated in his office, with the door firmly closed, he cleared his throat.
“Carlos Baartol sent me information about Pietr Vonholm.”
For a moment, Dekkard couldn’t place the name, but Ysella immediately said, “The Engaard on-site project manager who disappeared.”
“Apparently, he didn’t disappear. Not totally. Yesterday, his wife took a Transoceanic steamship—the type that carries passengers as well as cargo—bound for Noldar. The circumstances of her departure suggest she has no plans to return. Noldar is also where, incidentally, Siincleer Engineering is building another textile manufactory for—”
“Guldoran Ironway?” asked Dekkard.
Obreduur nodded.
“Why would they do it that way?” asked Ysella. “Why not just send Vonholm to Noldar?”
“That would leave tracks,” replied Obreduur. “I suspect that his ‘bonus,’ if you could call it that, was enough for him to live very well in Noldar, even without a job. There won’t be any trace of him that we can use, except circumstantially, and, even if we could find him, as Ingrella has pointed out, we certainly can’t compel someone in Noldar to come to Guldor, especially without the assistance of the Minister of the Justiciary and the threat of naval action. That resolves several problems for Siincleer Engineering. While denying everything, the corporacion lets it be known quietly that it rewards dubious deeds handsomely, while removing two witnesses from Guldoran justice.”
“Is Security following up on the matter?” asked Ysella.
“They have noted that Carissa Vonholm has left Guldor, but there is no evidence about Pietr Vonholm. If such evidence is found, they will pursue the matter.”
“They’re sticklers for the law when they don’t want to do anything,” said Ysella bitterly.
“Their elective application of the law is another example of corruption,” added Dekkard.
“Or their self-preservation,” said Obreduur. “Emrelda said that one patroller station chief would have liked to do more. If he’d stopped Vonholm’s wife from leaving Guldor, a woman who did nothing wrong, how long before the Commercers would have had the newssheets on him for persecuting a woman whose husband vanished and is presumed dead? How long would he last as a station chief?”
After a moment, Ysella asked, “Did Baartol come up with anything else?”
“Not so far. I’ll let you know.”
“There’s another thing,” said Dekkard. “If Guldoran Ironway is building another textile manufactory in Noldar, are they planning to close one here? Or will they produce textiles there more cheaply and drive out a smaller or more costly manufactory here in Guldor?”
“The new manufactory is designed to sell textiles more cheaply in Noldar. Their previous textile manufactory in Noldar doesn’t produce textiles for sale. It produces semi-finished cloth for use in products manufactured here in Guldor.”
“Meaning that tariffs are much lower.”
Obreduur nodded.
“In the meantime,” said Dekkard, “could we add Carissa Vonholm’s departure to the circumstantial evidence, possibly for trial in the newssheets? At the appropriate time, of course.”
“What are you suggesting, Steffan?” asked Obreduur, his tone implying he knew the answer.
“Compiling event after event with all these suspicious items, including, of course, the Kraffeist Affair, perhaps even typesetting a sheet on each event so that when the time comes, the whole country can be flooded with them. Then, if the newssheets don’t follow up, some councilors might bring up the matter before the Council. If that gets hushed up, print up sheets on that.” Dekkard shrugged. “There is the danger that the New Meritorists might take that information and create even larger demonstrations. An adroit councilor might be able to suggest that if the Council didn’t do something, then that would prove that the entire Council was owned by the Commercers. But you might find a better way. Those were just my thoughts.”
“If you weren’t so devoted to restoring the Great Charter to its original intent, Steffan,” said Obreduur, “you could be very dangerous. Perhaps you, Ysella, and Emrelda might consider drafting such a dossier or sheet on the destruction of Engaard Engineering by Siincleer Shipbuilding to remove competition to Siincleer Engineering. Every fact must be accurate, but you can pose leading questions.”
“How soon would you like a draft?” asked Dekkard.
“It would be useful to have a draft a few days before we leave for Gaarlak … if you’re interested.”
“We’re interested,” declared Ysella without even looking at Dekkard.
Dekkard hid an amused smile and nodded.
“Good,” replied Obreduur. “I’ll look forward to seeing what you present. Now … I do have a few other mat
ters to deal with before we finish here for the week.”
Dekkard and Ysella both immediately stood and made their way from the office. Once they were outside, Dekkard said, “We should get together with Emrelda tomorrow.”
“She has to work until third afternoon bell, to make up the time she took off.”
That had slipped Dekkard’s mind until Ysella had mentioned it. “We could meet her there after three.”
“I’ll send her a message. If she can’t do that, she can send a message to the house. We can talk more later.”
“Later” turned out to be a while in coming. After driving back to the house, escorting the family to services at the Trinitarian chapel, and eating dinner, the two walked out to the portico.
Once there, Ysella turned to Dekkard. “A message arrived while we were at services. Meeting at three at Emrelda’s is fine with her. What else did you want to talk about?”
“You said we were interested without even looking in my direction. Was that ‘we’ because you knew Emrelda would be interested or were you speaking for me as well?”
“Steffan … you don’t have to—”
“I agree, and you know it.” He smiled. “I did want to give you a little trouble about it.”
For a moment, she was silent. Finally, she said, “That’s fair. I’m sorry.”
“How do you think Obreduur plans to use what he’s compiling?” asked Dekkard, not wanting to dwell on her assumption of his agreement.
“You seemed to know that already.”
Dekkard shook his head. “That was a guess, but as I see it, right now very few people would even care. We could flood Guldor with detailed broadsheets, and they’d end up largely as grease paper. The only time they’ll be useful is after something larger gets people riled up.”
“You think he hasn’t thought about that?” Ysella replied.
“I’m sure he has. But the only things I can think of are some sort of economic collapse that is clearly caused by the Commercers or widespread riots by the New Meritorists. The riots would strengthen the Commercers, especially if Minister Wyath puts them down quickly without too many deaths.” But then, given the New Meritorists, that might be difficult.
“More than a few of them have been willing to die for their principles,” said Ysella, “but how many of them are like that? For that matter, how many New Meritorists are there?”
“Thousands of dedicated believers, and maybe tens of thousands who like their ideas.”
“Security can deal with a few thousand spread across Guldor. Tens of thousands might change things, but we want reform, not destruction.”
“I wonder where that line is,” replied Dekkard. “Commercers would say that what we want would destroy Guldor. We think they’ve at least partly destroyed the Great Charter.”
“I’d rather live under the Commercers, bad as it’s getting, than under the New Meritorists. Wouldn’t you?”
“That’s a terrible choice, but I’d agree. Not at all happily, however.”
“We’re not going to solve that dilemma tonight. We’ll also have a long day tomorrow, since we’ll have to work on drafting what Obreduur wants so that Emrelda can add or change things once she gets home, but that won’t be until after third bell.” Ysella paused, then added, “She will have changes. More than a few.”
That did not surprise Dekkard.
54
BY third bell Findi morning, the staff quarters of the Obreduur house were quiet, since Hyelda and Rhosali had the day off after breakfast, and both had already left. Dekkard and Ysella sat on opposite sides of the table, each with a pen and paper.
“Why don’t you start with the background on Engaard Engineering?” said Dekkard.
Ysella frowned. “I think we each should write up the entire story as we know it, and then the questions. That way, we’re less likely to leave out anything.”
“So we both put in everything we know … and then edit it down.”
Ysella shook her head. “We both put in everything we know. Then we argue over whose words or presentation of each fact or event is better and decide how to combine them. We don’t edit anything out until Emrelda reads it and makes changes and additions.” She smiled slightly. “Then you draft all the leading questions, and we suggest any changes.”
“Why do you want me to do the questions?”
“You have a more doubtful outlook on the current governance of Guldor than either of us. Your words will appeal more to men. That’s important because men, for all their protests to the contrary, tend to be more emotional about politics. A strong emotional reaction is exactly what we’ll need.”
“None of that is exactly a compliment,” replied Dekkard.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” returned Ysella sweetly.
Dekkard just shook his head. Then he picked up his pen.
Just before noon, Dekkard finished his draft, or rather the cleaned-up version. “How are you doing?”
“Probably another third of a bell, maybe two,” replied Ysella. “Why don’t you think of some provocative leading questions?”
“I thought you wanted me to wait on that.”
“You might as well start now.”
Dekkard managed three leading questions in the next third of a bell, discovering that formulating questions that did what they wanted sounded far easier than it turned out to be.
“Why don’t you let me read what you’ve done so far?” he asked.
Wordlessly, Ysella handed him five sheets of paper, then returned to writing.
Dekkard began to read. After the first sheet, he could see that her account of the background was far better than his, not surprisingly, although she had left out one fact.
A few minutes later, she handed him two more sheets. “Let me read yours.”
Dekkard passed over his four sheets. “What I’ve read of yours so far is better.”
“I probably know more of the details.”
I did mention that. But he kept that thought to himself as he kept reading. When he finished, he waited until Ysella looked up.
“You write well,” she said, “but I already knew that.”
“You have more details and facts, except you left one out. Emrelda said that Halaard Engaard was never considered by Siincleer Engineering when he first became an engineer. That allows a leading question about Siincleer’s hiring practices.”
“I did say you’re better with the questions. Also, there are several sections on your fourth page that you do better, and I like your wording better in some places earlier.”
After another two bells, Dekkard had written out a seven-page document that combined their efforts, and the two had to hurry to get to the omnibus, Dekkard wearing his green barong and black trousers, Ysella in a dusky-rose linen suit, with another almost transparent headscarf. Dekkard carried the draft inside a leather folder as they walked down the drive.
Dekkard glanced both ways after they went through the pedestrian gate, but saw no one and no steamers except a dark blue Kharlan heading east. Ysella had an intent expression on her face for several moments, before she relaxed.
“Obreduur definitely wanted our draft before Summerend recess,” said Dekkard. “Do you think he wants to show it to someone here before we leave or someone in Oersynt?”
“Possibly both places, even in Gaarlak. He is in touch with a number of people whose judgment he respects. We’ll meet some of them.”
“So that they’ll know us if we have to stand in for Obreduur?”
“Partly, but also because you need to make a good impression and meet influential Craft people. When we make a good impression, it strengthens the party … and Obreduur.”
The omnibus stop on Imperial Boulevard was crowded and so was the omnibus, although the numbers on the lower level slowly dwindled once the conveyance was headed east on Camelia Avenue. For that reason, neither said much until they reached Erslaan.
Even before they crossed the avenue and started walking up Jacquez, Dekka
rd had his handkerchief out and was blotting his forehead. “It’s hot.”
“It will be hotter in Gaarlak,” she replied cheerfully. “And we’ll be wearing suits.”
Dekkard winced. “You’re wearing one now, and you look so cool compared to me.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Dekkard definitely had his doubts.
The two reached Emrelda’s house slightly before three and took refuge in the shade of the drive portico.
“How do you think Emrelda’s doing?” asked Dekkard.
“She’s devastated, but she won’t show it.”
“Is that a family trait?”
“Only on Mother’s side,” replied Ysella dryly.
Dekkard was about to ask which side their brother Cliven favored when he saw the teal Gresynt. “Here comes Emrelda.”
In moments, Emrelda had parked the steamer under the portico and had emerged in a dark security-blue patroller’s uniform, with a black full-length truncheon at her side.
Dekkard had to admit that she looked very professional. Although he’d never thought of her otherwise, the uniform added a greater impression of power and gravitas.
Emrelda spoiled some of that by hugging Ysella and even Dekkard. “I’m so glad to see you both. I’m sorry—”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” interjected Dekkard. “We’re the ones imposing on you. You had to work.”
Emrelda looked to Ysella with an amused smile. “Did he come this way, or have you had to train him?”
“I haven’t done a thing,” replied Ysella.
“I just watched her,” said Dekkard, grinning and then saying, “and I have an older sister.”
Emrelda smiled, but the expression quickly faded. “We need to go inside and then onto the veranda. Well … you go out on the veranda, Steffan. I need to change out of this uniform and have a few words of woman talk.”
“Can I get you both some wine and take it out on the veranda?” asked Dekkard.
“If you would, that would be lovely. You know where the lager is.”
Dekkard didn’t dawdle in getting the wine—Silverhills—and the Kuhrs lager, but he didn’t rush. Even so, he sat alone in one of the white wicker chairs, with the leather folder on the low table, for a good third before Ysella and Emrelda reappeared.
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